


The Power Of Self-Exploration

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Masturbation, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Painplay, Self-Harm, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 04:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: A series of drabbles, which follow our characters very closely - seven tales of masturbation based on the pilot episodes of Heroes. With the help of their new powers, the heroes find they can give themselves a kind of self-loving they never could before.





	The Power Of Self-Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2007 to Livejournal.

Her spine snapped stuck to the cool glass as she arched her back in shock, before sensually slipping down the pane. The sensation was like a sensitive tooth against a thick tongue, flipping gum over a filling gone loose. But, with it warming for every second she lingered, it was almost as if _another_ person had begun to lean on the other side. Niki held her beautiful tanned thighs apart and, with fingers inside herself, began to pleasure and push in time to the pulse. Who's heartbeat could she _feel?_ She wondered if everybody felt this way when they looked at their reflection. The intimacy of seeing yourself so close, it feels like it's somebody else. And who's to say that it _wasn't?_

**H**

"Let's see what happens," he said, pinching his pet by the middle and placing him on his stomach, "if we let you roam." The scaled creature scuttled along his naked frame, unsure at first of which place to stay. All the while, the Indian soothed and sang to him, stroking his erection as if practising some long-forgotten massage. Mohinder the lizard slithered around his belly area, trailed his tail inside the naval, and along places that would cause a man to blush. The young man's breath hitched sharply. Building up the pressure, patiently, the release was bound to come soon. He couldn't help but smile to see a surprised reptile skid in it and fall onto the bed.

**E**

Sighing, Nathan Petrelli rubbed his temples, letting out a soft yawn as he put his campaign work to bed. If anything, that's where _he_ should be going. It had been a long day, both in and out of the office. But instead of settling down to sleep, the candidate thoughtfully lolled back on his chair and dreamed of his brother, Peter. When times were difficult, his mind would often take him to when they were teens, sleeping side-by-side in a double bed for warmth. The homely smell of his shampooed hair, the feel of his arms around his sleeping-shirt which was tucked into his boxers. What was stopping him, just this one time? Maybe he should fly there _tonight._

**R**

Dicing up her forearm with a razor blade, she created a raised rash of lines, playing noughts and crosses and an ever more dangerous game with her skin. She carved her name. 'Claire Bear,' it read. Oh, she knew she was in the most _fortunate_ position - to be able to cut and feel the sheer pleasure of pain, without any of the aftermath. She lifted her skirt and removed her juice-soaked panties, her bare breasts now aching, covered in blood. Her cheerleading uniform was red and white, and the spatters from the slicing only added the vibrant splash of colour needed to complete the look. She was a teen idol, a role model to many. And just _look_ at her behaviour.

**O**

Girls didn't just think of shopping, shoes and what to wear - they fantasised and dreamed of sex - as Matt Parkman now well knew. The recent discovery of his new ability had brought much to his life. Some of it had been useful, but most of it had just been downright fantastic. His day off from the police force took him to a local library and to the modern romance section in particular. He retrieved a book on engineering from a shelf across the way, something unsupecting and masculine, and sat himself down behind a pretty blonde who was reading chick-lit. You should have _heard_ the things she said when it got to the scene where he took off his _shirt_.

**E**

"Peeping Tom!" the girls may have screamed, but all of this gave Hiro an idea - it was wrong, it was immoral, and yet he knew it would earn him a pat on the back from Ando - voyeurism really was more _his_ kind of kick. Still though, _everyone_ has their moments of weakness. He checked into a motel with his last handful of yen, and concentrated wholly on the reception clock until it stopped. Picking up his bags, he started his journey from room to room, spying through the many keyholes of unsuspecting couples. He watched them all in their different positions and, upon finding one he liked, prepared to set time ticking again. It was to be an amazing night.

**S**

The pop-art style he had applied to this scene was perfect, to the point where he wanted to run his fingers along the halftone pattern to see if he could feel it. He traced the woman's purple nipple, and the droplets of showered water on the nape of her neck, caressing her. And then he kissed what seemed so real, before holding the still wet canvas high above his head, and trashing it to the ground like a man possessed. The piece was a drug-fuelled nonsense - but he was compelled to continue. With paint-encrusted lips, he crouched down on the floorboards. His art was _alive_ , as human as you or me, and Isaac knew that too.


End file.
